by E. A. Darl
“They have been this way for a week now. I see no change.” The woman’s voice echoed slightly as it rose in anger. “This is useless. They are dying like all the others.”
“What does it matter? There are plenty of street rats round. No one misses the homeless when they disappear off the street. This is a convenient way to test the serum. If they die, they die. One less person to kill off later,” the man said, in a bored voice.
Heels clicked as one of the occupants of the room crossed the tile floor. “This one doesn’t look as bad as the other two. Maybe she can handle another dose. Come look.”
Shuffling sounds met Avalon’s ear as Magnum crouched down beside her.
“Yeah. She looks healthier than the rest. Let’s give her another dose of the serum.” A metal clasp snapped back, pinging metal on metal. “There, in her other arm, this one looks like a drug addict on a bad run,” said the man.
“Alright, let’s get out of here before someone spots our van.”
Avalon grabbed Magnum’s arm and pulled her into a side room, easing the door closed then huddled in the dark behind it. Footsteps sounded in the hallway and passed by their hiding spot. She hoped that Cris had been paying attention, otherwise the game was up. The footsteps continued on their way and the exterior door opened and closed with a hollow boom. Avalon eased to her feet and then tiptoed to the door, peeking through the glass. The hallway was empty as far as her eye could see.
Magnum touched her shoulder and put her lips against Avalon’s ear. “We need to get out of here before we get caught!” she whispered, her voice tight with anger.
“Not until I see what is in that room. You stay here, I won’t be but a minute.” She pulled open the door, checked to make sure the coast was clear, then ran over to the newspapered door and pushed it open. Inside were a dozen hospital gurneys lined up in two rows of six, under the grimy windows set high in the walls. Only three were occupied, two on one side, one on the other. Together, they approached the closest of the gurneys and peered down at the person laying there. Both girls gasped out loud at the inhuman features that stared back at them. The face of the person who lay in the bed was swollen beyond recognition. His face was mass of large red welts so large that they obscured his eyes and mouth from view. The location of his mouth could be guessed at, only because of the orderly arrangement of the swellings, producing a puffy line where they assumed a mouth would exist. They assumed the person was human, because of the lack of hair on his head. Avalon didn’t care to check any further to confirm the theory. She shuddered to think what might lie below the filthy covers. His chest rose and fell, accompanied by shallow, irregular gasps, as he struggled to breathe.
“What has happened to them!” Magnum’s tough exterior failed her in face of the torturous remains lying in the accompanying bed. “What have they done to these people?”
Avalon looked over at Magnum. Sweat had broken out on Magnum’s face and her fist rose to her mouth to stop herself from throwing up. She didn’t seem to notice that she had done it.
“This is what I needed to know,” said Avalon. “The experiments being run on these people are the reason my parents were kidnapped and taken away. They knew this was going on. They were trying to stop it.”
“What are they doing to them? They look like they have been swarmed by bees.” Magnum stepped back from the bedside.
“Very good, Firebrand. So your crew has some brains after all.”
The voice dropped in behind them like ice cubes down the back of their shirts, chilling them to the bone. Avalon whipped around, knife in hand but her legs were kicked out from under her and she fell, striking her head against the metal bed frame. The room spun, and she slumped onto her side, stunned.
“Drop the knife, Firebrand, and you won’t get hurt.” The skinny Imbroglio boy waved a long bladed knife in Magnum’s direction, motioning with his hand to a second boy to move in closer. “Take her knife, Frank.”
A shorter boy with a shock of red hair moved into the light of the window, approaching Magnum with caution.
Magnum’s eyes flickered between her two opponents, brandishing her knife as they tried to cut her off.
Avalon moaned on the floor and the first Imbroglio lashed out with her foot, kicking Avalon in the face. Her eyebrow split, spilling blood down her face as she slumped to the floor. Furious, Magnum launched herself at the closest boy, a bull charging a red cape. They collapsed on the floor, wrestling, while Cris engaged the remaining kid, attacking with a swift series of kicks and punches that drove her opponent back. The sounds of grunts and thuds filled the air. Avalon slowly pushed herself to her feet, staggering sideways for several steps and breaking her fall by grabbing onto a plastic conduit attached to the wall behind the beds. The conduit buzzed under her hand and she blinked the blood out of her eyes to look at it closer, but froze at the sound of a voice behind her.
“That’s enough. Drop your knives. Now!”
The barked command echoed through the room, bringing everyone to a halt.
Avalon groaned. The two Feds had returned and stood blocking the exit, guns leveled. Magnum’s combatant swung a final blow at Magnum, connecting his fist to her jaw. She crumpled to the floor, stunned.
“Enough, I said!” barked the male officer, and the boy confronting Cris smirked as he put his knife away.
Cris was still on her feet, and ran over to help Magnum get up, slinging her slack arm around her shoulder. “Stand up, Magnum, shake it off,” she whispered in her ear.
“Well, this is unfortunate for you three,” said the female officer in a cold voice. “We were about to go searching for more test subjects and here they walk in willingly! These three,” she gestured toward a bed, “are pretty much used up. But while they lasted, they told us a lot, like how the bees are attracted to movement, how it increases their aggression. Like how certain colours excite them and others do not. They have a collective intelligence, did you know that? In the past we called it a ‘hive mind’ but it’s much more than shared instinct. It is shared knowledge. They grow and adapt their surroundings based on the knowledge they obtain, and these bees are acquiring knowledge at an alarming rate. You see, they have assimilated the minds of these people. Unfortunately, none of them were intelligent enough to help them in a significant fashion, but who knows? Maybe you three are smart enough to bring about the evolution we have been striving to accomplish.”
Magnum and Cris’ mouths opened in horror at her recitation.
“Enough talk,” barked her companion. “You three, down on the floor.”
For Avalon, it was old news. She edged closer to the joint of the pipe, eyes pinned on the gun-wielding officers. She swayed, head down, partly to give the impression of being stunned and weakened, and partly to examine the pipe closer. She shivered at her mad, mad plan. The male officer gestured for them to come over to where they stood. Cris pulled Magnum along beside her and after a few steps, Magnum shook off Cris’ help. As they walked over, the two Imbroglios circled around behind them. Avalon watched them close the gap and when she judged they were only steps from the door, she pulled her hood up over her head and yelled.
“Magnum, Cris, RUN!” She threw her weight against the pipe. With a groan and a snap, the joint let go and Avalon ran for the door.
An angry, horrifying buzzing filled the air, as thousands of angry bees swarmed out of the end of the tube. The federal officers stood stock still for a moment in shock as the bees swarmed into a black cloud. Magnum and Cris threw themselves against the doors just as the two Imbroglio teens screamed and ran at the feds, stumbling into them and leading the angry bees directly to the two officers. They went down in a tangled mass, bees swarming the four screaming victims.
Avalon slowly moved along the wall working her way to the doorway, where the door had swung mostly closed after the Firebrand teens near escape. At the last second she could control her fear no longer and lunged for the open doorway, running through and slamming it shut behind her.
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Gasping, Avalon lowered her hood and that is when it stung her. A piercing pain stabbed into her neck and on instinct, she swatted the bee, smashing it against the side of her neck. “Come on, we need to get out of here!”
They ran down the hall, across the garage, and through the doors without a care for who waited outside. It was blessedly empty. Fear giving their feet wings, they dashed down the closest alley.
Avalon blinked. Her vision was acting funny, clouding over then clearing, then clouding over again. She tripped and went down, skidding along the cobblestones to a halt. She tried to push up off the ground, but her vision narrowed. She caught a glimpse of Magnum and Cris turning around before her sight tunneled away and she faded into oblivion.
Chapter 6
Medical Records
Alexa dragged the heavy briefcase to the easy chair, within reach of Peet’s hand. He gripped the handle and hauled it onto his lap, a groan escaping his lips as the stitches pulled, and then pushed on two metal buttons. The clasps released with dual snaps and Peet lifted the lid of the bulging case. Inside were stacked over one hundred file folders, filled with sheaves of paper reports. The tab of each folder gave the name of a patient, their date of birth and hospital ID code. He picked up the first folder and flipped it open, thumbing through the loose pages. Peet’s eyes scanned the contents while a long whistle of appreciation escaped his lips.
“This is quite the stash of information. Are the feds aware you have these?”
“No.” Worry wrinkled his winged brows. “At least, I don’t think they do,” said Dr. Song.
“It only takes one person to talk. How many people know about these records?” asked Peet.
“Myself, my secretary while I was still at the hospital, and my daughter,” said Dr. Song.
“And every doctor who filled out a report?” asked Peet. “That is the problem.”
“No, you don’t understand. I filled out those reports, every single one of them.”
Peet’s mouth opened in surprise. “That is a ton of work. When did you find the time to examine every one of these patients?”
“I set up a control protocol under the guise of bio-hazard security. It required a secondary entry on all patients of interest to the government. I had to sign off on the electronic file and conducted my own review while I did so. Only my secretary Sylvia could interpret my notes. No one else could read my hand writing.” Dr. Song smiled. “Sylvia died about a year ago. As far as I know, she took the secret with her to the grave.”
“And your daughter?”
“She is part of the SOS initiative. SOS stands for—”
“Seeds of survival,” Peet finished the sentence. “Is it safe to assume that you are in contact with the SOS, then?” Dr. Song nodded agreement. “Then why have you not passed this research on to them? Surely they could use the information?”
“Ah, well you see, I have been in radio contact with them, but not physical. I am a modern homing pigeon, only I don’t go anywhere. The signals come to me.”
Peet frowned. “Does the SOS know you have the files?”
“Yes, but I don’t think they know how many.”
Peet picked up the first file, flipped it open again and began to read. The subject was female. Everything was there, from first admittance, tests run and results, daily observations and interventions and eventually the date and time of death. Peet examined the two dates. Three days. She had died within three days of presenting herself at the hospital with symptoms of a deep chest congestion and disorientation. Peet picked up a print from an MRI film examining the results. What he saw made bile rise in his throat. A good portion of her brain was missing. But that wasn’t what alarmed him. It was what had replaced the missing tissue. A symmetrical web-like structure was clearly visible, occupying the left half of her frontal lobe. Disbelieving what his eyes were seeing, Peet said “Is that...a honey comb?”
“Yes. Hard to believe, isn’t it? And there are ninety nine more cases just like it, in the folders below that one,” Dr. Song pointed at the open case on Peet’s lap. “Every single one of those cases were treated by the same two doctors, sent over by the government and assigned specifically to this phenomena. It was like they knew the sick would start arriving at our doors.”
“How so?”
“Those two doctors arrived within hours of the first cases staggering in through the emergency room doors. They virtually commandeered the old psychiatric wing, citing war time ordinances and waving signed documents from the feds. They came with an armed accompaniment too. A sniper team in fatigues. We just moved aside and let them do their thing. They rounded up the ill with certain symptoms and herded them down the hall to the empty psych wing, shouting orders for supplies and commandeering staff to gather it.”
Peet stared in amazement at Dr. Song. “Who were these doctors? Did you recognize them?”
Dr. Song’s eyes flickered to Alexa then back to Peet. “Yes. It was a pair of young, up and coming disease prevention doctors from the university. Dr. & Dr. Gainsborough.”
Alexa’s eyes widened. “Mama? Papa?”
Dr. Song nodded. “Yes, it was them. Whether they were working voluntarily or were being forced, we did not know. We were never allowed to speak to them directly, or alone. Later, they showed up at the SOS. From what I have heard, it was an interesting conversation that went down.”
Peet flipped through a few more files, frowning. “Did every patient die?”
“Yes. There was nothing we could do for them.”
“And what about those we saw at the hospital, crowding the corridors? Are they all infected too?”
Dr. Song shook his head. “No, those are just regular illnesses, if there is a such a thing anymore. Most of them are suffering from starvation and dehydration. But those one hundred cases in front of you, on your lap? They were in unprotected contact with the pathogen and by contact, I mean they were purposely exposed.”
“You don’t think this was an accident?” Peet’s voice was sharpened as the reality of the words spoken by Dr. Song sank into his mind. “You think they were being experimented on? That is a pretty massive accusation, Doctor.”
Dr. Song’s eyes narrowed in appreciation of Peet’s unwillingness to accept his words on face value. “Indeed, they are. But you see, we found more.”
“More what?” Alexa edged closer to Peet’s chair. “You found mummies? Zombies?” she shuddered, her imagination running wild.
Dr. Song smiled at her words, then it faded away. “No, Alexa, no zombies. Zombies make for great stories, but it really isn’t possible to animate the dead.” His gaze rose to meet Peet’s troubled eyes. “We found one of their experimental stations. They have them scattered all over the city. What we discovered was that the walking wounded that showed up at the hospital had escaped one of these ‘experimental hospitals’ for lack of a better term. These mini prisons are set up in abandoned sectors of the city, and the subjects drawn in to them are the homeless, people who no one will miss. Lured with the promise of food and a warm bed, they willingly agree to whatever they want, but they never leave. We found one such facility and carried away the people there. It is part of the work being done by the SOS.”
Dr. Song’s hand brushed the top of Alexa’s hair. “Your parents,” he said softly “are two of the scientists working to undo the damage to these people.”
“What is wrong with them?” she asked eyes wide.
“They have been stung. At first we thought it was just a remnant of some colony of killer bees, but these are worse, much worse. They take their natural aggression to a whole new level. We think they have been altered somehow.”
Peet let out a low whistle, as understanding dawned in his eyes. “A super bee,” he muttered.
“Yes. A super bee experiment that has gone horribly wrong. That is what we suspect too.”
Peet shifted, wincing. “Damn, why did I have to get shot now? I don’t have time for this crap.”
“You will heal
faster if you don’t move around so much. Give it a week at least, before you attempt to do any serious activity. You should be able to get around then, without bleeding at least.”
“I need to find Mitch. He needs to know about this. Perhaps he can pull some strings at the police station.”
“Who is Mitch?”
Alexa piped up, pleased to contribute. “He is the cop that arrested my sister, Avalon for stealing, then broke her out of jail to come get me.”
Dr. Song stared at Alexa, the beginning of a smile twitching in the corner of his mouth.
“Another rebel. I should have guessed.” He shuffled over to Peet’s side and drew aside his borrowed bath robe to check on the dressing over his leg wound. “You know, if this had been left any longer, you would have died. The bullet hit the femoral artery of your thigh. Sit still and rest. I will see if I can raise the police station via the short wave. But understand, I am not going to tell them where I am or where to find us. Now, what message do you want me to pass on?”
Peet picked up a scratch pad of paper and a pen. The first page contained a short grocery list. He flipped it over and tore out the page underneath and scrawled a short message. It said “Careful with package. Highly contagious. Use extreme caution or we will all need an SOS.” He handed it to the doctor then motioned for Alexa to give him a hand standing. He lurched to his feet then hobbled back over to the couch, sinking down with a grateful sigh. “I need to rest.”
Alexa tucked the blankets around him and tiptoed out of the room, following Dr. Song back to the shortwave set, to send their precious message.
Chapter 7
Rabbits
Dr. Song twiddled with the dials on the short wave, fine tuning the signal until it was so thin that only someone specifically listening on that frequency would be able to find it. Still, caution dictated that he disguise the message as much as possible, to confuse anyone who might stumble across the transmission.